


(and it's) more than a feeling

by jecca-o9 (talkplaylove)



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: (that tag isnt for the main pair), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Falling In Love, Fluff, Lay-centric, Lay/EXO - Freeform, Love is a Choice, M/M, Minor Byun Baekhyun/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Minor Kim Jongdae | Chen/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Minor Kim Jongin | Kai/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Minor Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Minor Kim Minseok | Xiumin/Lu Han, Minor Kim Minseok | Xiumin/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Minor Lu Han/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, Minor Wu Yi Fan | Kris/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay, One Night Stands, Pining, Slice of Life, Soul-Searching, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Unrequited Love, minor chanyeol/lay, minor do/lay, minor tao/lay, ok again lay literally falls in love with every exo member so, or soulmate searching lol, yixing falls in love with all of exo in this--literally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22038307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkplaylove/pseuds/jecca-o9
Summary: (Soulmates!AU) Everyone is born with a tiny illegible scribble on their right wrists. Once people get older the writing becomes clearer and displays the name of their soulmate.Yixing is wide-eyed and excited to meet his soulmate, to finally have his scribble clear. But something strange happens: his tattoo shows up too early, changes, changes, and changes some more. On the search for his soulmate, Yixing learns the truth about love and happiness and maybe, just maybe, even finds himself along the way.
Relationships: Oh Sehun/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	(and it's) more than a feeling

**Author's Note:**

> **Hi! I'm still in the slow process of transferring my fics to AO3 from LJ. Here is yet another one. Written for justgetlayd prompt fest on LJ, 06/23/2014.**
> 
> **og notes:** Writing this was really interesting, mainly because this style of writing isn't my style or tone and the prompt—not of soulmates, but of the tattoo changing + OT11 as the requested pairing—intrigued me, since it meant Lay would be in eleven relationships, and that challenged me in an excited-I-want-to-write-that-I-haven't-tried-that-and-I-can-put-my-learnings-on-Love-from-TH131-in-it!!! kind of way. 
> 
> Love to Ella, my number 1 enabler, this wouldn't have gotten to the third/fourth rewrite and I couldn’t have decided on an ending without you; thanks to G & neoragodestiny @ LJ, for being cheerleaders; much love and thanks to my babe of a beta mapofwords @LJ who tightened the stitches of this patchwork quilt and pulled me out of the mud I’d trapped myself in. This is for perfectiontales because I like to believe that I’d have finished this 7,000 words less if you didn’t influence me to ship the ship. this is on you.

Yixing builds his future in a sandbox: a sandcastle (to live in), a yellow truck (to go places in), Yifan (to be with), and Yifan’s flying dragons (to protect them, Yifan says).

“That’s scary, Yifan.” Yixing frowns, dropping the shovel. “I don’t want our castle to be scary.”

“That’s so nobody can attack our castle,” Yifan says. “But if our dragon gets defeated…” he puffs his chest out, full of seven-year old bravery, bravado. “I’ll protect you.”

Yixing cracks a smile. He still doesn’t like dragons, but if Yifan likes them, maybe he can like them too. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Yifan says.

Yifan moves to Canada with his mother half a year later.

But not before—not before this:

It’s a sunny afternoon. Yixing’s mother is preparing fresh fruit, fingers pale against the round oranges. Yixing remembers, because they were so, so bright against the white counter of their tiny kitchen.

Yifan points to her wrist, to the characters in stark black ink. “My mom has a bracelet around there. So does my dad. They wear it all the time. Is it because they can’t get the dirt out?”

Yixing’s mother laughs, Yixing’s always liked the way she laughs, loud and unladylike, and she tells them about the legend, the story, the thing that makes Yixing’s life turn out the way it does, because he believes it. With all his heart.

Because his mother told it, because he sees it all around, because maybe, maybe he’s kind of a hopeless romantic, growing up on too many Disney movies and Chinese dramas.

Soulmates.

“There’s an old legend that goes, that every person was created and put into this world with a partner. Together, they’d bring out the best in each other. They’d understand each other more than any other two people in the world. They’d get along the best and they’d stay with each other for all of their lives. That person is called a soulmate.” Yixing’s mother explains to her captive audience of two.

“So those lines, scribbles, on your wrist right now—they’re not dirt. They’ll form a name when you get older. That person is your soulmate.” She finishes her story with a smile.

“I know what my scribble is going to say,” Yifan decides, looking at his wrist. Yifan had always been like that, saying things like they make sense, _I live in Galaxy, I’m Picasso_.

Yixing’s mom blinks, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hair was black, then. “Well, Yifan—no one really knows. It might turn out to be someone you know—or someone completely unexpected.” She smiles patiently. “But that’s still a long way off. We’re never really sure about what the future can bring.” She trails off, looks out the window.

“I’m sure, I know.” Yifan says, eyebrows scrunched into a frown, all the determination, tenacity teaming into his eyebrows.

Yixing laughs and eats his fruit, giddy. He can’t wait to grow older, for his scribble to clear, for it to show him his soul mate.

The thing is—Yifan leaves.

And on the day he does, Yixing’s tattoo clears up, way too early, six years old and Yifan’s name on his wrist.

His mother’s eyes grow wide. She shakes her head, then tells him, hushing and drying away his tears, because Yixing is six and Yifan has left and Yixing is going to be _alone forever_ , “Well, if you’re meant to be together, fate will bring you to each other in the future.”

(Yixing learns later, much later, that it’s a lie. Fate _doesn’t_ bring people together. People do.)

Yixing meets Lu Han when he’s thirteen, at a music school his parents enrolled him to. Lu Han is skinny, with dark hair long and curling on his neck, and he lugs around a file case with Tong Vfang Xien Qi’s Kim Jaejoong on the front. Lu Han is pretty, in a way that Yixing isn’t used to.

Yixing jives with Lu Han like he never did with any of his friends, not even with Yifan (though in retrospect, a sandbox and a common time to play in the park is all anyone needs to be best friends at age six) their sense of humor bouncing of each other. And it’s innocent, this, the way you realize you love someone when you already do, but not in an I-want-to-kiss-you kind of way, just in an I-want-you-to-stay-here kind of way—but Yixing is too young to know the difference, thinks names on the wrist mean love, _l-o-v-e, l is for the way you look, at me_. And it’s all safe and laughter and music and sharing ice cream after class until the day he wakes up one day with Lu Han’s name on his wrist.

He’s in the kitchen when he realizes, hand moving to shove his bangs away as he eats when he notices the different characters on his wrist.

Yixing stares. He stares and stares, but it doesn’t change. Carefully, he prods his wrist with a finger, scratches the ink splayed across it.

It doesn’t budge.

“Ma,” He says, eyes trained on his wrist.

“What is it?” She asks, wiping and tucking away the last of the dishes. Yixing stays still as she comes closer.

She looks at his wrist. “Oh my.”

*  
His mother slips dark bracelets on his arm, covering his wrist. The sunlight glares through the windows, beaming on the spotless kitchen counter.

“Don’t show anyone. Not until you’re sure,” she tells him.

And Yixing doesn’t understand.

*

He’s excited to show Lu Han, Lu Han with the laughing face that only a mother (and Yixing) could love, that he sits and waits outside the doors of the music school a good ten minutes early. He looks up at the decorations outside the door, beaded trinkets forming a mobile, a cage with a small candle in it. He supposes it’s pretty.

_We'll be together forever!_

Loud footsteps and Lu Han is there, skidding to a stop in front of Yixing. Yixing barely has time to blink, greet, when Lu Han speaks.

“I got my tattoo,” Lu Han says breathlessly, grinning and lifting up his wrist. The sun bounces off his dark hair.

Yixing breaks into a grin, his heart somersaulting, about to say, _Look at mine,_ when he sees the characters on Lu Han’s wrist.

Foreign.

Definitely not his name.

His heart sinks quickly, settles at the bottom of his stomach. Yixing fiddles with his bracelets, looks at Lu Han’s face. “What does it say?”

“Xiumin,” Lu Han says, still grinning goofily. _A face only a mother could love,_ Yixing thinks.

“Sounds like a fake name,” Yixing says jokingly, meaning it. Lu Han swats him on the arm, looks at his wrist with stars in his eyes.

Later, much later—Yixing will look at Lu Han and laugh, just laugh, sometimes out of the blue. He’d remember how he would pine, insert a perfect Lu Han into his daydreams (even though he knows Lu Han isn’t like that, giving him traits, as if Lu Han would magically change into this ideal person once he became Yixing’s), dreaming of forever. And he feels warmth gripping his heart when he comes to the realization that some relationships _are_ meant to last forever—just not in the way he expected them to—but for now, now, it’s painful, his heart deflating inside his chest, the second name from his tattoo, another rejection from fate, another mistake.

Tao happens right after Yixing thinks he’s truly over Lu Han, Lu Han’s name on his wrist fading into an indecipherable scribble. It takes a year for it to fade, a year of listening to Lu Han talk about his penpal Xiumin, a year of Lu Han poking and trying to peek at Yixing’s tattoo, a year of Yixing lying about it still being a meaningless scribble. Yixing’s a sophomore, studying in Beijing with Lu Han.

Tao is tall, a freshman, dark circles under his eyes. He’s on the wushu team.

There’s a letter, a puppy dog look, and Yixing says thank you. Because apparently, the appropriate response for _Hey, here’s my heart, in notebook paper and ballpoint ink, written first period, given three weeks later_ , is _Thank you._

Lu Han thunks his head against his locker. “You are clueless, Zhang Yixing,” he declares.

Yixing almost tells Lu Han to look in a mirror. He stops it just in time.

That night Yixing thinks about the sincerity of the gesture and Tao’s wide eyes, and he feels an itch on his wrist.

He says yes the morning after. Tao beams and takes him to lunch. Tao is sweet, if a little annoying, always checking up on him and feeding him, always needing attention and compliments and Yixing gives them, Yixing knows how to take care of people, values them no matter how close their relationship is (it’s a great trait to have, but it also proves fatal, later, again later).

The name changes after a week, goes back to being a scribble on his wrist. He has no idea why, this time. It’s not like he met someone else or someone confessed to him.

He lets Tao down easy.

The look he gets in return is equal parts confused and hurt. He asks about Tao’s tattoo.

“It doesn’t matter what it will say,” Tao says. His tattoo hasn’t formed. See, Tao likes Yixing, even if Yixing isn’t on his wrist, and Yixing wonders why, finds it a little strange. Yixing’s never liked anyone not on his wrist, doesn’t know that it’s even possible to like someone who isn’t going to be your forever.

“‘You either have the feeling or you don’t.’ That’s from my favorite song. I like you. I like you now, and that’s what matters,” Tao says.

“But what if your soulmate comes? What then?” Yixing asks, not unkindly. They live in a world of soulmates; finding yours, Yixing believes, is inevitable, destined.

Tao doesn’t have an answer.

Yixing’s mother’s words echo in his head, _“Don’t show anyone. Not until you’re sure.”_

Yixing thinks he understands (he’s wrong, but he’s on the way there).

When you’re young, you spend as much time imagining, daydreaming, staring out of the window in class or boring holes in the blackboard with your eyes. You think of the person that makes your heart race, fancy yourself in love, and build up worlds around that person, fantasies of forever, today, tomorrow, next year, forever.

Yixing isn’t any different.

*

Yixing sees Jongin on a show, a ballet, something he watches to accompany his grandmother. Jongin is one of the dancers, beautiful and talented. Jongin speaks with his body in a way that Yixing envies, art and fluid motion a language in itself. The smile that breaks his lips during curtain call is bright, genuine, lovely.

Yixing is smitten and begs for his grandmother to let him wait by the backdoor after the show. He gets Jongin’s autograph, Jongin’s shy grin and stuttered _Thank you_ in Mandarin.

(Jongin is the reason Yixing dances, learns to dance, pushes to become great in dancing. Jongin (love) is the reason he applies for an exchange program in Korea, Jongin (love, his tattoo) is the reason he decides to leave Lu Han, his parents, his grandmother, his country.)

Before he leaves, Yixing confides in Lu Han about his changing tattoo. He tells Lu Han about Yifan, Tao, Jongin—and okay, Lu Han too, but he makes sure to understate the duration of Lu Han’s name on his wrist. And the best thing about having a best friend who _could_ have been your soulmate (and Yixing realizes later, much later, that maybe Lu Han is, just not in a romantic way), is that they don’t judge you.

So Yixing goes to Korea.

In between classes and learning Korean, he manages to watch two of Jongin’s shows, joins a dance club in his school in Korea in the hopes of somehow bumping into Jongin (he knows Jongin’s ballet studio is nearby) and he does, one day, at a music store nearby.

Yixing’s always imagined how it would play out if he ever saw Jongin, how Jongin would be confused at first, then remember him from China, how he’d meet his gaze, mutter a warm _hello_.

Yixing’s pulse quickens when he sees Jongin perusing the hiphop rack. He approaches Jongin, stutters a greeting in Korean, praises him for his shows. Jongin smiles at him, shy, thanks him.

Yixing waits with bated breath.

Nothing happens.

Jongin doesn’t remember him at all.

Jongin is with someone, someone who looks enough like him that it could’ve been his twin except for the slight height difference. Yixing knows him too, Taemin, a dance prodigy in the studio Yixing’s club practices at. Yixing bows at him too and he’s acknowledged with a smile, then a teasing one is sent in Jongin’s direction. Jongin blushes and nudges Taemin’s shoulder, carefully steering him away.

Taemin shoves Jongin and laughs at him, and he gets a well-natured shove in return, before Jongin’s arm wraps around his shoulder and he’s given a hug instead. Taemin rolls his eyes, pretending to be difficult, one arm shoving Jongin’s face away. It’s there that Yixing sees the characters on Taemin’s wrist, exactly like his own, _Kim Jongin_. It’s Taemin that has Jongin on his wrist, but it’s Jongin who’s sticking close, like he’s the one who’s got a lot to lose if he doesn't stay.

Yixing sees a flash of Jongin’s wrist, his arm around Taemin’s neck, characters Yixing doesn’t recognize. And Yixing’s brow furrows, confused, because the way Jongin is looking at Taemin reminds Yixing of how Lu Han looks when he’s reading a letter from Xiumin, but it’s not Taemin’s name on Jongin’s wrist and why is he acting like that, Taemin’s not even his soulmate, he’s meant to be with someone else, someone who’s not Taemin or Yixing, and—oh, _oh_ , Yixing suddenly remembers Tao, _I like you now and that’s what matters_ , and maybe, maybe that’s the reason why Jongin feels the need to stay so close, close, _close_.

Yixing dances harder than he’s ever done later that night, sweat drenching his clothes and mixing with his tears.

He’s flown a thousand and three hundred miles, following fate, taking a chance, and still, still, he ends up all alone.

Yixing makes it through the rest of his term in Korea with a little help from his friends. Jongdae is charming and sweet, taking care of Yixing even when he doesn’t have to. He listens wide-eyed to Yixing’s story of coming to Korea and tries to cheer him on, even when Yixing’s given up.

Baekhyun is… well, Yixing knows Baekhyun thinks he’s weird, strange, and not because he’s Chinese. Yixing gets the feeling that Baekhyun doesn’t like him very much, if at all, but only hangs out with him because of Jongdae, because Jongdae is Yixing’s official, school assigned buddy and Jongdae is Baekhyun’s best friend.

It’s not even a light-hearted kind of teasing that he gets, from Baekhyun. It’s sarcastic remarks and a rude tone, like Baekhyun could be doing so much more useful things with his time than accompanying a weird foreigner.

Yixing tries not to let it bother him. He fails. He knows that he can’t please everyone (because if he could, then sometime, somewhere, he would have been enough for someone, for Lu Han, for Jongin), but he’s young and it doesn’t stop him from trying, from wanting to be accepted, _why don’t you like me?_ He keeps these things hidden beneath the surface, smiling when Baekhyun mocks his accent, his Korean, each small jab pinpricks in his chest. He’s trying, he is, but he’s learning he isn’t that good at languages like he is at playing instruments, and Yixing’s never been the type to bother people with his feelings unless they ask, doesn’t know how to bring up the topic anyway, and even if he did, doesn’t know if he’d be able to explain himself properly—the language barrier is called a barrier for a reason.

The three of them make plans to visit Baekhyun’s grandmother, out of Seoul, with the added bonus of touring Yixing around. Yixing waits for the day with excitement, Baekhyun laughing at him, barely hiding his own happiness at going to visit his family. Jongdae talks excitedly about the food and the toursit-y things they’ll get to do and soon enough, the day comes.

Except Jongdae comes down with a bout of the flu. Yixing’s all set to stay put for the day when Baekhyun comes knocking at his foster parents’ door, ready to go.

“Oh. But Jongdae’s sick?” Yixing asks, clarifies, because—

“Yeah.” Baekhyun shrugs. “We should still go. My grandmother’s expecting us. We hang out even without Jongdae, anyway.”

Yixing doesn’t point out that Jongdae usually comes after, breaking the awkward atmosphere, the bridge that connects Baekhyun and Yixing.

“Don’t worry, hyung.” Baekhyun’s grin is somewhere between sarcasm and uncertainty, and Yixing didn’t even know that place existed until today. “I’ll take care of you.”

Yixing goes.

Yixing loves Baekhyun’s grandmother and Baekhyun’s hometown. There’s a quiet that doesn’t exist in the city. Baekhyun is more relaxed, slipping into his native accent like a second skin. True to his word, he takes care of Yixing, showing him around town and even treating him to a meal. He brags about Yixing to his friends and his family, about Yixing’s improvement in dancing, Yixing flying to Korea on his own, Yixing’s excellent grades in art class. He still teases Yixing, but he’s more relaxed, sharp tongue less so in the country air.

That day is one of Yixing’s favorites in Korea.

Baekhyun’s name appears on Yixing’s wrist afterwards.

It’d be lovely and romantic if Lu Han calls him because he feels Yixing’s distress from thousands of miles away. But really, Lu Han only calls him to talk about soccer and Xiumin and the latest TVfXQ gossip. At Yixing’s near radio silence, Lu Han prods him for a story.

“I’m so confused,” Yixing says, burrowing his face into his pillow, one hand on the phone, after he talks about Baekhyun.

There’s static on the phone, something even technology isn’t even able to fix, and it doesn’t harden the blow any less when Lu Han asks, “Are you sure you’re in love with him? Or do you just want him to like you, to treat you as a friend?”

“I think he treats me like one,” Yixing says. “He did, anyway, in Bucheon.”

“Yeah, but does he, all the time? Do you want to feel like he treats you well all the time?” Lu Han asks.

Yixing chews on his lip. It's too early to tell, really but—he doesn't discount the possibility.

“Why does this thing have to be so hard?” Yixing whispers.

“Well,” Lu Han says, “It wouldn’t be worth it if it wasn’t.”

When did Lu Han become so smart?

Yixing doesn’t realize he’s said the last part out loud until Lu Han chokes out a “Since I stopped hanging out with you everyday, dumbass!” amidst peals of laughter.

*

If Jongdae or Baekhyun notice any subtle difference in Yixing’s demeanor, longer silences and faraway looks, they don’t comment on it.

Not right away, at least.

Jongdae brings it up, first jokingly, then in sincere seriousness, one afternoon walking home together. Yixing diverts and asks why Baekhyun is harder on him than others.

“Not everyone expresses their feelings in the same way,” Jongdae says, shoulder bumping against Yixing’s. “Some people have a harder time expressing how they feel. So they do it in different ways.”

“Hmm. Even if it’s ways that don’t really encourage people to like you as a person?”

Jongdae looks at him.

Yixing shrugs. “He’s always fun for a party.”

Jongdae hears what Yixing doesn’t say, the _but he’s not the kind of person you want with you everyday—not if he treats you like he treats me, anyway._

“It’s just how he is. Sometimes he forgets he doesn’t have an audience to cater to,” Jongdae says. “Think of it this way—he wouldn’t tease you if he wasn’t close to you. Especially since you’re older.”

“He wouldn’t make fun of me if he wasn’t close to me,” Yixing repeats. It sounds just as dumb out of his own mouth, like an excuse.

Jongdae smiles, and the best thing about Jongdae is he hears exactly what Yixing says, what Yixing means to say. “I guess, you could say, he expresses his feelings the only way he knows how.”

“Don’t we all do?”

“Yeah,” Jongdae says. “Ah, that’s just how he is, you know? Don’t get offended, hyung, but you’re pretty weird yourself.”

Yixing blinks. Jongdae peeks at him from under his lashes, waiting for his reaction.

Yixing laughs.

Jongdae sighs in relief. He laughs too, dropping an arm around Yixing’s shoulder.

“The only way we know how, huh,” Yixing repeats. And here’s what he learns from it, from liking Baekhyun: that people express feelings in different ways, sometimes in ways so different from our own, what we’re used to, but that doesn’t make their feelings any less real or important. It’s just a matter of accepting how different people show affection, show love, and loving them in your own way.

When Yixing finally decides he’s okay with that, that's when Baekhyun’s name fades from his wrist.

When it happens, Yixing can’t help but think _fuck this_ because it feels like he’s being played, dragged around the world following something so volatile. He keeps the bracelets around his wrist, thankful for his mother's insight, frustrated at his feelings. _Don't show anyone until you're sure_.

He wishes his tattoo would let him be sure soon.

Chanyeol is a street musician Yixing comes across on a cloudy day, two years in Korea. The air is cold and Yixing is on his way to a cafe, face bundled in a red scarf when he hears music coming from the corner.

Yixing takes a detour and watches him instead. He’s enthralled at the music, simple but heartfelt, and the way Chanyeol’s long fingers press against the strings.

Yixing loves the only way he knows how—silent, in actions, never too obvious in words. He talks like it encompasses everybody, so that person won’t know they’re any different, so they won’t know how much of a hold they have over Yixing, because now, after everything his heart has been through, Yixing likes to hold his cards, all of them, too close to his chest. He _knows_ Chanyeol— Chanyeol is clumsy, almost tripping or dropping or knocking over anything in range in a span of thirty minutes, but recovers quickly enough that people don’t notice, how he mentions his sister and mother at the end of every set, his loud happy-go-lucky laughter, the fact that he thinks he’s good looking enough to make it big, big, big—but he doesn’t _know_ Chanyeol.

Later, Chanyeol gets a gig at a local bar, a recurring Wednesday night affair. Yixing attends all of these sessions for three straight months, sometimes with Jongdae, sometimes with Baekhyun, mostly alone. The bar is dark and small, Chanyeol’s guitar and an electric keyboard in front, with his trademark _Not 2 Shabby_ cardboard cut-out. Most of the space is occupied by tables and chairs for customers, and even then it could only fit around twenty patrons at a time. Cigarette smoke permeates the air and the walls have black and white photographs framed on them.

Chanyeol has a new set every week and takes requests, and sings songs from the same artist if he doesn’t feel confident about a request. Once, Yixing asks for Jason Mraz’ I’m Yours and Chanyeol, apologetic, confesses to not having the chords for those memorized. He sings I Won’t Give Up for Yixing instead. It makes Yixing’s heart race, go into overdrive.

Lu Han calls him during a set, a different time, tone amused at Yixing’s short answers.

“You could just go and talk to him,” Lu Han says. “Tell him, ‘I know we’ve never met, but I feel this amazing musical connection between you and I and I think we’re meant to be together’.”

Yixing wants to throw a napkin at Lu Han’s face, but can’t, because distance. He marvels at how talking to someone could make you miss them more—they are right there, talking to you, and you miss them. He doesn’t tell Lu Han that his tattoo has changed again, Chanyeol’s name in the messy script.

“I’m hanging up,” he says instead and Lu Han yells at him. He imagines Lu Han flailing, grins and hangs up anyway. He finishes Chanyeol’s set like always.

“You could talk to him, tell him you really like him,” Jongdae says, after school one day, on their way to the resto-bar. It’s Yixing’s last week in school. This is his last time to watch Chanyeol’s gig.

“And then what, tell him he’s leaving?” Baekhyun asks, shaking his head.

“This is enough,” Yixing says. “Liking him like this is enough for me. It’ll be selfish to want more.” He doesn’t want a repeat of the Jongin thing. Stars were meant to be loved from afar, anyway. (Maybe, maybe, after everything he’s been through, Yixing is just a little bit scared of taking a shot at love again).

Jongdae shakes his head, raises his fist. “You should fight for love!”

Baekhyun bops Jongdae on the head. He turns to look at Yixing, slips an arm around his shoulder. ”I get you.”

The night before he leaves, Yixing packs his things, thinking—he came to Korea following love. He leaves with two friends but his heart will still a hundred miles away, next to a cardboard sign and a guitar.

 _Not 2 shabby_.

University. By this time, Yixing realizes he kind of falls a little in love with everyone he meets. And that’s all right. Here’s a theory his worked on: maybe his tattoo doesn’t work like everyone else does, maybe his tattoo leads him to all the potential people he could spend forever with.

( _Don't show anyone until you're sure._ Sometimes, he wonders if his mother was sure, at the beginning. She always made it sound like she was.)

Chanyeol’s name blurs, like everyone else’s, though Yixing still hasn’t figured out if it’s because they found their real soulmate or he’s fallen out of love with them (the thought that he hasn't truly loved any of the people that's shown up on his wrist crosses his mind only once, and he buries it in the back of his head, refuses to acknowledge it). All Yixing knows is he’s in university, working part-time at a coffee shop, with Lu Han dropping by twice his shift, every day, to buy coffee; Jongdae or Baekhyun pinging him funny things over Messenger and sometimes good-looking customers come in.

Joonmyun is a dream. When Yixing thinks of Joonmyun, he remembers coffee, the scent of it filling his being, Americano, Americano, Americano.

Yixing falls for Joonmyun the way most people do, first for his looks, then for the fact that his whole aura seems to scream, _hey, I can take care of you._. He lives for those mornings, when he hands Joonmyun his coffee cup, fingers grazing, Yixing’s dimple showing, Joonmyun giving him a small nod, a thank you. The way Joonmyun’s eyes light up when he takes his first sip, there, right there.

It comes as a surprise when Joonmyun lightly asks him one day, what time he gets off his shift. Yixing is slow to reply, confused, and Joonmyun smiles and bashfully asks if he can take Yixing to brunch. Yixing says no and is quick to explain that he has a class, Joonmyun’s face falling from disappointment, changing to relief, to hope.

Joonmyun bites his lip. “When would be a good time then?”

“Dinner?” Yixing asks, hopefully.

“Okay,” Joonmyun says, smiling. He takes Yixing’s number.

They go out on three dates, and Yixing realizes Joonmyun is a little awkward and a little insecure, not all that he projects, not all that he wants to be. And it’s okay, because Yixing’s not perfect either, except. Except they barely have anything in common, Joonmyun is a Korean on an exchange program and his Mandarin isn’t that great, and Yixing’s Korean has never been great, and their dates are filled with more silences than conversation. But Joonmyun is trying, trying and Yixing—Yixing isn’t ready for someone to try so hard, to look at him like that, to play Eyes on Me on his phone for him, even if he has Joonmyun’s name on his wrist.

(Three dates, several text messages, waking up thinking about Joonmyun, talking to Joonmyun on the phone before bed—these things are all in foreign territory, so achingly new, and it’s too soon that he realizes being with Joonmyun means Joonmyun can hurt him at any time, that it can be another repeat of what his heart has gone through with Lu Han, Jongin, Chanyeol. The thought makes his blood run cold. Yixing thinks of what it could be, of what it could mean, of what it could grow to be, and when he realizes he sees an actual future with Joonmyun, can see that they’d be the kind of people who’d adapt to each other, both sides in an equilibrium, he runs.)

“You’re an idiot,” is what Lu Han says. Joonmyun’s dejected face is still imprinted on Yixing’s eyelids, a last message on his cellphone, _I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry. This song reminds me of you._ , Joonmyun doesn’t come into the coffee shop anymore. Yixing doesn’t know if he agrees. But, right now, he tries to convince himself of this, silencing the voice in his head that tells him he’s just _scared_ (of being loved, being hurt). Right now, Yixing tells himself:

Joonmyun is better as a dream.

Oh, but it’s Sehun, Sehun, who lets him go.

Sehun is sweet and young but driven. He cares quite a bit about his looks, even though he tries to hide it, unconsciously fixing his hair before he speaks, ducking to check his reflection at almost every reflective surface. It’s partly vanity and partly because he’s a little lost, a young foreigner all alone in a strange country, and it’s one of the only ways he can cope, to appear put together on the outside.

Yixing—well, Yixing is in love with Sehun.

He’s in love with Sehun before he knows he is, Sehun crawling his way into Yixing’s life, under his skin, into his heart. Sehun’s in the same dance program in Yixing’s university, a freshman when Yixing is a senior. The Korean is quick to be noticed on the first day, because he’s foreign, because he’s tall, because he’s good-looking.

Yixing realizes Sehun watches him practice the most, tries to copy his moves during class, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. When Yixing catches Sehun watching him one day, through the mirror, Sehun blushes and looks away. After the song, Sehun finally approaches him, and in stumbling Mandarin tells him he thinks Yixing is the best dancer in class (and their teacher praises him so much) and wants to learn from him. Yixing remembers Jongin, a brief moment, the reason he got into dancing and it feels like following a foolish dream across another country is worth it, has paid off in an unexpected way. Yixing smiles and takes Sehun under his wing, casually dropping a, “You’re cute,” in a friendly, brotherly way that makes Sehun blush anyway.

Slowly, Sehun folds himself into Yixing’s life and social calendar like he was always there, like Yixing didn’t have a life before Sehun. And before he realizes it, it’s Christmas and Sehun stays with Yixing’s family in Changsha, unable to get a ticket home to Seoul, Sehun tucking himself around Yixing at night, Sehun holding his hand in school after winter break, Sehun kissing him between classes, Sehun, Sehun, Sehun.

Lu Han complains that he should be the first one Yixing should’ve told when he finally got his shit together and became part of a functioning relationship, but Yixing can’t even tell him _when_ , just that _it is happening_.

Lu Han and Sehun get along well, mostly because Lu Han’s a softie at heart and Sehun can con him into buying both him and Yixing bubble tea (“In Korea, the hyung always treats,”) and he has stories about Korean culture from the point of view of a native (“You should listen, hyung, so Xiumin-hyung won’t think you’re cute but clueless”), but there are times when Sehun is quiet, looking between Lu Han and Yixing like he wants to say something, wants to ask, but he’s’s unsure. When Yixing pokes his cheek, Sehun is always quick to smile at him and shrug it off.

Yixing loses his virginity with Sehun, and Sehun’s already lost his before, and Yixing thinks it’s a little strange, him being three years older than Sehun but less experienced—and Lu Han points out that it’s because Sehun lives in the real world, has real relationships instead of loving people from afar and living out fantasies in his head like Yixing does.

*

Yixing is a year out of university. He joins a dance group that does background gigs for variety shows and concerts. He realizes sometime between graduation and after that dancing is his air. He chooses a job that gives him control over his schedule (he sells insurance), so he can follow his passion, because he’s Yixing, it’s what he does. His head is a little in the clouds and he’s not extremely practical. As long as he can keep a roof over his head and food in his stomach, he doesn’t care much that people (that there were, there are, and there will be more) scorn and tell him to get a real job.

It's eight in the morning and Yixing has to work.

“Don’t get up yet, hyung,” Sehun mumbles into his hair, “Sleep s’more.”

“Your breath stinks,” Yixing says, even though he can’t really tell. He calmly moves Sehun’s leg that lies heavily on his hip. As soon as he does, Sehun’s arm falls over his and around his chest.

“Please,” Sehun says drowsily.

Yixing huffs out a laugh. He may not have a cubicle and a set 9-5 work schedule, but he does have a client he needs to meet. “Ah, seriously, I have to get up—”

Sehun’s blows air to the back of Yixing’s neck. Yixing’s reaction is knee-jerk, a flinch and he tries to dislodge Sehun, but Sehun is more awake than he’s pretending to be. There’s laughter and a struggle as the sun peeks across the gaps in the curtain.

Yixing is triumphant when he emerges from their tussle, knees bracketing Sehun’s waist. He looks down at Sehun, perfect Sehun, and smiles, feeling lucky. “I win.”

“I let you win,” Sehun says, serenely, his blonde hair a splayed mess on the pillows. Yixing’s meeting is in two hours.

He’s got time.

They don’t end up sleeping.

*

“As the great master Obi-Wan once said—we accept the love we think we deserve,” Lu Han says.

Yixing squints at Lu Han then at Xiumin’s face pixelated face on Lu Han’s laptop, catches the flash of a grin on Xiumin’s face before it schools into normal.

The thing is: Yixing is very, very, happy. He has never been this happy in his life, and okay, he’s not going to lie, his professional career could use a lot more leveling up, and he would like to eat three nice meals a day but—but everything else is great. Sehun is great.

Naturally, he thinks something’s going to give. It’s always been like that with him.

That’s when Lu Han unleashes his wisdom, Yixing lying down on his couch, Lu Han on the floor with his Samsung netbook open.

"Obi-Wan, huh," Yixing says deadpan. "Have you even watched Star Wars?"

"I'm going to," Lu Han says, peeking at Xiumin.

"Well, you should know," Yixing starts, "that Luke is a robot and he and R2D2 are star-crossed lovers and that—"

Yixing's phone rings just as Lu Han begins protesting about spoilers, Xiumin gone from the screen, hiding his laughter. Lu Han's still whining about spoilers when Yixing answers the call, smiling.

"Hi hyung." Sehun's voice is warm and Yixing feels that happy, flutter feeling in his chest.

"Hi yourself," Yixing says as Lu Han starts laughing at something Xiumin said.

"Sounds like you're having fun," Sehun says.

"Mhmm. I'm at Lu Han's," Yixing says.

“Oh,” Sehun says. Silence.

"You okay, baby?" Yixing asks, sitting up.

"Uh, yeah," Sehun says. "My accounting prof didn't show up so I thought we could hang out instead but if you’re busy—"

“I’ll come meet you,” Yixing says. "Wait for me, okay?"

*

They’ve been together close to two years. Yixing is as in love with Sehun the day he realized he was, maybe even more so.

It’s still terrifying.

They’re going out for a movie, Sehun bundled in his scarf and winter coat. He’s laughing and pulling at Yixing’s wrist when one of Yixing’s bracelets snap. It falls to the snow, a dark line against white.

“Sorry,” Sehun says, stricken, looking at the broken bracelet.

Yixing smiles. It’s Sehun’s name under there, anyway. “It’s okay.”

(It’s terrifying, yes, but it’s also different from anything Yixing’s ever felt before, from any feeling he’s had with other people’s names on his wrist. Yixing has come to realize, in his almost-two-years with Sehun, that it’s because his relationship with Sehun is _real_ , not a fantasy, not because he was in love with the idea of love, not because he had a crush that got out of hand, not because he was projecting feelings of love to the nearest person.

But the most startling difference? He remembers feeling in love with Sehun before his wrist tells him he is.)

“I’ll get you a new one,” Sehun says shyly, still looking guilty.

Yixing smiles, tugs Sehun’s arm as they walk through the snow. “I don’t need another one.”

Sehun bites his lip. Sehun still worries about things like that, despite the time they’ve been together. Yixing finds it really cute and utterly disarming.

Yixing peeks at him. “If you really want to get hyung something, a coffee mug would be nice. It’d be nice to have my own when I’m over at your place.”

They never stay for too long at Sehun’s place, mostly because he lives in a cramped apartment with two other guys, the most he could afford with his student’s allowance, and he thinks they cramp his style. Yixing likes to point out that Sehun doesn’t need to try anymore, he already has Yixing, but Sehun likes to pretend to not hear anything (any excuse to stay with Yixing at his place, really).

Yixing has never seen Sehun grin so wide, it takes his breath away. “Okay.”

*

They‘re drinking bubble tea and Lu Han is outlining his list of woes over his long distance non-relationship with Xiumin. Xiumin who hasn’t revealed his tattoo, even after years of being in contact with Lu Han, even knowing that his name is scribbled on Lu Han’s wrist.

“We accept the love we think we deserve,” Yixing says, sarcastic, as Lu Han complains about all his attempts at romance being diverted. Lu Han looks at him for a second then laughs, hooking his arm around Yixing’s neck and giving him a half-hug.

Sehun sips his bubble tea. He adjusts the watch he always wears around his wrist. He says nothing.

*

Sehun buys him the coffee cup. It’s a simple ceramic white mug and he shyly shows Yixing a DIY tutorial on his phone, personalized mugs with Sharpee and baking.

Yixing writes the date of his and Sehun’s first anniversary on the cup, nothing else.

Sehun smiles.

(And Yixing thinks, _Yifan, Lu Han, Jongin, Baekhyun, Chanyeol, Joonmyun_ —nothing, nothing compared to this. Nothing even came close.)

*

In retrospect, Yixing wonders if he should have expected it. If there weren’t little clues that lead to this, to this, to _this_.

“I don’t feel like you’re…. that you love me, like I do you, hyung,” Sehun says, eyes downcast and Yixing doesn’t understand, has had Sehun’s name on his wrist for far, far, longer than anyone else.

“You’re the same with me like you are with everyone else,” Sehun says, still not looking at him.

“That’s not true,” Yixing says, _it’s you I’ve been with all these years_ , but Sehun smiles at him, and says, “I don’t know what you think. With me, you always know, my moods, how I’ll react—everything.”

That’s not true, either, Yixing wants to say. If it were, how come I didn’t see this coming?

“But with you—I can never tell. Don’t you see? It’s like—you don’t trust me to show what you really think, or feel, or.” Sehun is struggling, Yixing can tell, and Sehun accidentally hits the coffee mug on the counter. Sehun has his own place now, and they spend an equal time between his and Yixing’s apartment.

It falls to the floor with a crash, broken pieces on the wood. Yixing can make out his faded handwriting on a jagged piece, _Decem-_.

Symbolic, symbolic, symbolic, Yixing thinks.

“Sorry,” Sehun says, looking at the cup.

“For what?” Yixing asks.

He looks at the pieces on the floor too.

“Even Lu Han-hyung understands you better than I do,” Sehun whispers. “And I know you’ve known each other for years, but we’ve practically lived in each other’s pockets for three years and I—I don’t even get the you that comes out when you’re with him.”

And Yixing wants to say that Sehun gets a better one, more careful and thoughtful and just _better_ , and it’s then that he realizes what Sehun means, what Sehun is trying so hard to say without saying it outright, that Yixing—Yixing isn’t giving everything, all of himself, to Sehun and Sehun does, Sehun _has_ the moment he said _Hyung, I’m in love with you,_ , in a mall, holding hands, eating ice cream, words falling from his lips, uncontrollable, rushing, _needing_ to get out.

Yixing realizes then that right now, nothing, nothing he could say or do would change Sehun’s decision.

*

Yixing wonders if this is how karma works. You hurt someone, someone hurts you back.

So this is how it feels, Yixing thinks later, curled up on his bed, under the covers, his heart so heavy, heavy, heavy, like a weight that made him never want to get up and face the world again. His eyes are red rimmed and whenever he stops crying, feels like he’s done with crying, it would start again, uncontrollable.

The after is the worst.

Every place reminds him of Sehun: the park where they had their first date, his bed where Sehun spent so many nights and mornings snug against his back, his hair against Yixing’s pillows, the dance studio where they choreographed together, malls where they idled away afternoons, hand in hand.

Everything is tainted with Sehun’s presence.

Kyungsoo is something Yixing keeps to himself.

Dancing has always been Yixing’s form of release since he started learning how, but the dance studio is also filled with memories of Sehun, and worse, Sehun himself, so Yixing goes to clubs at night to dance, dance, dance. Sometimes it comes with drinks.

Lu Han accompanies him for awhile, a few nights, but begs off soon to Skype with his penpal-slash-soulmate. It happens two nights after Lu Han stops accompanying him, Yixing drinking just a little too much (and him knowing he’s drinking a bit past his limit, but not really caring). He dances on the crowded floor, a Friday night, a full house and there are thrumming bodies all around. And there's a guy, a sweet little thing, who’d danced with him all night, and well—alcohol doesn’t change you, it doesn’t, it just lets you be bolder, do things and say things you normally wouldn’t have the guts to, or jump into things you'd think more deeply about before doing. But fuck, Yixing feels like he’s still bleeding, coffee cup on the floor, and snapped bracelet against the snow.

The way Yixing sees it, it’s okay to have a one-night stand. And it’s not strange to get hung up over one. Especially if you’ve just broken up with your boyfriend of three years. So maybe he wasn’t in the right place emotionally, and maybe he wouldn’t have done it if he wasn’t hurting, but the fact stands: he did it.

But it’s downright pathetic for his soulmate to be a guy who grinded against him in a club, looked at him with wide eyes and full lips, tilted his head at the door, without as much as an introduction.

The introduction doesn’t even come later, when his gorgeous, gorgeous mouth is on Yixing, Yixing’s fingers scrambling for purchase on blue bedsheets, closing his eyes and seeing flashes of blonde, lips—no it’s not him, but still coming to that image, oh, oh, oh.

The stranger wipes his lips, raises his eyebrows. Yixing repays him in kind with his mouth and his fingers and gets hard again when he realizes the doe-eyed stranger is cursing in Korean. Yixing fucks him and gets angry red marks down his back.

The name shows up on his wrist the next morning, under the shower spray.

“Shit,” Yixing says. He blinks at his wrist, water droplets running and forming rivulets around the tattoo, _Do Kyungsoo_.

He didn’t even know this name—but if he’d warrant a guess, it would be the guy at the club last night. His heart feels like it's dropped to the floor and he cries at the loss of Sehun's name on his wrist, fate pushing the finality of their relationship in his face. Sehun, three years, traded for a stranger.

This isn’t right, Yixing thinks. This isn’t right.

That afternoon, he stares at his wrist. The new name is still there.

*

The thing with falling in love with someone you don’t know is you can make them, shape them into this person that will never hurt or disappoint you. Yixing knows this well enough from Lu Han, from Chanyeol. He’s tried a real relationship, a real one, a real one, with Joonmyun and Sehun and this is where he’s ended up so—so here. Maybe this is better, for people like him, with stupid tattoos that don’t work the way they’re supposed to.

He lives out the entire relationship in his head, pining for the stranger.

And so here, here is a list of traits Kyungsoo has:

Maybe he’s quiet, shy but determined to succeed.

Maybe he likes watching movies on his own, eating enough for three people, posing alone at photobooths.

Maybe he hates cooking but is often mistaken for the kind of guy who knows how to, the same way Lu Han is always mistaken as angelic and feminine.

Maybe he’s really sarcastic and shoots everyone down in his head, having little patience for other people that don’t match his intellectual level.

Maybe there’s a wall around him so high, people can’t be bothered to climb over to get to know him.

At least Yixing knows for sure he’s good in bed.

Yixing entertains these thoughts, knows that he’s just blocking himself from the pain, trying to replace the hurt with another fantasy. He knows that this name on his wrist is wrong, feels like it invalidates the immensity of his relationship with Sehun, who he really loved (loves), and even Lu Han, whose name was on his wrist once upon a time. And he laughs a little because Lu Han could very well be his soulmate, except he's not in love with Lu Han and Lu Han's not in love with him, and maybe, just maybe, that makes all the difference in the world.

As it is, Kyungsoo’s name lasts on his wrist for a month, hidden under his bracelets. It’s the time it takes for him to realize that the names on his wrist will only mean something if he lets it.

Yixing never sees Kyungsoo again.

Jongdae (re-)enters Yixing’s life when he Yixing says he’s done, no, no more, no more love, no more of believing the childish notions of a soulmate from a _tattoo_ , a genetic mutation. No more believing in destiny, fate, coffee cups and smiling eyes, no more following this love over oceans, over countries, over, over.

No more drowning himself in alcohol and the pumping beats of a club, bodies grinding against him, him against bodies, bedsheets, an unknown stranger on his wrist, no more living in his head. No more getting swept away by his feelings like he’s just a piece of paper flowing in the breeze.

He’s done. He’s twenty-five. It’s time to focus on something else—hey, maybe it’s even time to get a “real job.” (He doesn’t; he knows society measures success and happiness by how far the career ladder they’ve climbed, fancy job titles and six digit salaries. Fortunately, that’s not how Yixing works, too focused on looking for true happiness to care about how he appears in society—a dancer, an insurance salesman, following his passion, going nowhere, looking for love, love, love, and though he doesn’t know it, he's really looking for answers).

He’s posted a cryptic status message on LINE that has Jongdae pinging him, tone sincere and caring, so Yixing gives in and tells him everything.

 _We could sign you up on one of those dating sites,_ Jongdae suggests.

 _No,_ Yixing pings back. He adds an D:< emoticon for good measure.

 _Well at least get a Facebook,_ Jongdae says.

 _That’s banned, here, Jongdae,_ Yixing says.

 _Right. Weibo?_ Jongdae takes a little longer to answer on that one. Yixing thinks he probably Google’d WHAT DO PEOPLE DO IN CHINA IF THEY DON'T HAVE FACEBOOK.

_What for?_

_To meet people, silly!_

_I don’t want to meet people anymore, Jongdae._

_Don’t be like that, hyung. Or I’ll come over and drag you out of that funk you’re in._

_If you do, I’ll treat you to a week’s worth of meals,_ Yixing types in jest, fully knowing that Jongdae’s medical internship wouldn’t let him leave for that long.

Jongdae comes to China with much fanfare (from himself). He’s all bundled up and he crashes in Yixing’s apartment for two weeks. He’s grinning as he says he switched shifts with a friend, and _you should never underestimate my charisma, hyung._

Yixing sets up his Weibo with Jongdae looking over his shoulder. A couple of days later, Kevin Li from Canada adds him. There’s a hipster photo of a guy watching a sunset and a short message. _Hey Yixing, it’s Wu Yifan from down the street in Changsha. Add me if it’s you—if it isn’t, peace out._

Yixing clicks accept.

He takes Jongdae around the city the first few days, going to tourist traps and historical sites, his heart squirming, remembering the last time he visited those places (Sehun, Sehun, Sehun). He drags Lu Han with them after the first day, unable to, not wanting to live in his head while he was supposed to play host to a good friend who did the same for him many years before.

Jongdae is a good distraction, in a way that he knows he is one and lets himself be one, taking care of Yixing in a way only he can. Lu Han’s regaled with stories of Yixing in Korea from Jongdae’s perspective, and learns more about the country his soulmate lives in from a real person, not online or as shown in dramas, and not from one that trades information with bubble tea.

Inevitably, the talk of tattoos come up later in the day as they sit around for coffee.

“It’s Baekhyun,” Jongdae says, making a face, flashing his tattoo at Yixing and Lu Han.

Yixing blinks, surprised, because—well, it seems so _easy_ , for your soulmate to be your best friend. To not have to find each other through pen pals or flying thousands of miles away. It’s like fate really brought them together. Yixing thinks again of how it feels like it’s been forever with Lu Han but—

“You’re in love with him?” Yixing asks.

Jongdae gives him a strange look. “Yeah. His name wouldn’t have been here if I wasn’t.” He points at his wrist.

Yixing frowns, opens his mouth, about to ask what that meant , because see, Yixing’s wrist scrawls names even before he has feelings for anyone and—

“So where’s Baekhyun now?” Lu Han asks.

“Working. Hey, let’s take a selca and send it to him. He’ll get annoyed.” Jongdae grins, eyes positively bright at the idea.

Yixing laughs, question momentarily forgotten because okay, he can’t imagine a pair that would work together so well.

*

“Don’t give up now, hyung. Fight for it!” Jongdae enthuses. Jongdae’s always been a fighter.

Yixing doesn’t know how to say that he's tired of fighting and chasing. That okay, maybe the names on his wrist will only mean something if he lets them, if he builds relationships but—maybe he's not meant for this, maybe he’s a square peg trying to fit into a round hole, maybe his heart has been broken so many times, too many pieces missing for it to be whole. Maybe it’s time to stop. He diverts and asks Jongdae about his and Baekhyun’s story instead.

Jongdae tells him that being with Baekhyun is the easiest thing and the most frustrating thing in the world. Being soulmates hasn't changed anything, that Jongdae is still Jongdae and Baekhyun is still Baekhyun and they have different views and feelings, even if they know each other like nobody else does. Jongdae tells Yixing that Baekhyun was dating someone else, no, that person wasn’t on his wrist, _you can date people who aren’t on your tattoo, hyung, come on_ , and how Jongdae got jealous—at first because it felt like his best friend was drifting away from him, but realized it was another matter entirely, a revelation that timed with his tattoo appearing.

“So, I fought,” Jongdae says, with a trace of guilt. “I know he was starting to like that person at that time, but—I had to. I wanted to fight for it, I always say I would, but it’s hard knowing that the other person you’re fighting for could already be happy and you might make him miserable if you do… then my tattoo showed up, so I did it anyway,” Jongdae says, smiling ruefully. “But the thing is... even if his name didn't show up on my wrist right then, I think I would still have fought for him.”

“Even if you weren’t sure he was your soulmate?”

“I was sure,” Jongdae says, this time firmly. “No matter what my tattoo would say, I just—I knew it was him. It had to be him.”

Yixing frowns and says nothing. That was the complete opposite of what he’d grown up believing, it’s not a concept he could wrap his head around in an afternoon—it was like Jongdae said he’d picked his soulmate, chose Baekhyun, then the name appeared on his wrist. Not the other way around.

Strange.

“You’re telling me that even if he isn’t your soulmate, even if someone else appeared on your wrist, you’d still fight for him?” Yixing asks. Maybe he just understood wrong.

Jongdae nods. “He’s my soulmate.” He leaves it at that.

But this, this is what Yixing knows, what Yixing’s believed in since the age of six: a soulmate is someone who will be with you forever, will accept you like no other person can, and the name of this person will appear on your wrist. That’s how the legend goes, that’s how society functions, that’s how people find happiness, get married, build lives. They follow their wrists—or they ignore it and live in miserable ‘what could’ve beens’ inside their heads, making do with the lives they’ve chosen, but always, always, thinking of what could’ve been, the what-ifs in the corner of their minds.

At least, thats what Yixing thinks, what movies and books and idealism have shaped him to believe. He’s starting to realize, slowly, that what he’s believed in all his life may not be the truth.

“That sounds hard.” is the only thing Yixing can think of to say. To fight for someone who may not really be your soulmate.

“But it’s love, hyung. You don’t toss it aside just because it’s hard,” Jongdae says, gently.

Yixing blinks and looks away. Maybe that was the problem, then. Nobody’s ever fought for him.

In the two weeks that Jongdae visits, Jongdae doesn’t push or prod any more. He keeps a steady stream of conversation and friendship, and despite himself, Yixing finds that Jongdae pulls him back in, funny stories of Korea and Baekhyun, having Skype conversations with Baekhyun at night, the happiness that _radiates_ off Jongdae—it all makes him remember what he loves about loving, that feeling, that feeling, _that feeling_ , about searching, about what he’s spent his life believing.

But Yixing’s older now, and with age comes experience, and Yixing’s not sure if he’s better for it, but he knows more now about love and soulmates and people and life than he did at the wide-eyed impressionable age of six. He knows that everyone is loveable, that you can be loved if you allow it, that names on your wrist will mean something, will mean more, if you do something about them, that sometimes, it’s better to take a chance—even if your heart will tear apart, because the memories, the experience, the love felt from taking that chance—it’s all more than worth it.

Jongdae goes back to Korea with a smile and a new friend in Lu Han and a long hug from Yixing. As they watch the plane take off the runway, Yixing finally begins to understand what’s been staring at him all along; that it’s not a concept like fate that brings people together; it’s not fate that flies planes to follow soulmates or fights for love. People do.

Yixing learns that yes, you can still fall in love with people even if, even when, you know they belong to someone else.

Lu Han drags Yixing with him to Korea a year later, having finally moved up the corporate ladder enough that he could take half a month of leave without it reflecting badly on him. Yixing, well, Yixing still works insurance but what's outstanding is he's made quite a name for himself, with a bunch of high and mid paying clients, to the bafflement of the new hires who all think he's just stoned (really, that's just how he looks). But the thing is Yixing actually cares for his clients, thinking of them as friends, close but not too close that they could give him major upheavals in his life. A perfect relationship. And his clients, they feel it, the connection, the care, and are willing to trust him with their futures.

So yeah, Yixing's making quite a decent living off his commissions. Looks like his job was real, after all. And he didn't have to lose himself, give up his passion, dancing, friends, for it.

They fly to Korea in economy but book themselves in a Western-named hotel in Seoul. Lu Han's eyes are sparkling and he's jittery down to the balls of his feet.

"It's finally happening," Lu Han says. He squirms. He is finally going to meet Xiumin.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Yixing asks, nodding as Lu Han picks a set of clothes for approval. “I could stay in a corner of the cafe. You’ll only need to contact me if it turns out that he’s some weirdo, all this time.”

Lu Han’s laughter is bright. “I’m sure it won’t be like that.”

*

Yixing meets Kim Minseok through Lu Han, Lu Han smiling harder than ever before, eyes so bright that Yixing imagines them shooting stars. Lu Han’s got his arm wrapped around a smaller Minseok, excitedly introducing him as his pen pal, Xiumin (apparently, his parents were a little paranoid and made him use a ‘pretend’ name when he was younger, afraid that Lu Han would not be a student, even though Crossing Borders Making Friendships! was a school-run pen pal writing program).

“You look better in person,” Yixing says, because he does. “Less pixels, more 3D.”

Minseok laughs.

Minseok takes them around Korea. He's not much different from how he is on Skype, except for his _presence_. It's calm, quiet, and commanding and Yixing, Yixing who is so used to talking with Lu Han, finds himself in the predicament of instantly falling silent whenever Minseok opens his mouth.

Minseok, in a word, is handsome. He has a young looking face, kittenish eyes and round cheeks. His skin is pale, even after hours of playing soccer under the sun. He doesn't talk much, but when he does, he always has something to say. Yixing starts to understand why Lu Han was taken with him so easily, so many years ago, and why Lu Han has never wavered (although to be fair, Yixing falls for people hard, fast, and all at once).

Minseok is really, really easy to fall for. There are people like that, who are so easy to love, to fall in love with, and there are people who are easy to like but never fall in love with. Unfortunately for Yixing, Minseok doesn't fall in the latter category. Not even close.

As with everything, Yixing falls, quickly, not even stumbling, knowing, knowing, knowing he’s only going to crash.

*

“Does that make me a bad person?” Yixing asks glumly, blowing over the steam of his hot chocolate.

“It just makes you human,” Jongdae says. “You have feelings.”

Yixing looks at Jongdae over his chocolate, waits for Jongdae’s usual mantra. But what comes next out of Jongdae’s mouth isn’t what Yixing expects.

“How you decide to act on those feelings—I guess that’s what we can judge to be okay or not okay.” Jongdae squeezes his hand.

Yixing grins at him wryly. “You’re not going to tell me to fight for love this time, Jongdae-ah?”

Jongdae licks his lips, thinking. Finally, he says, “Fight for the love you want to keep.”

It may be the wisest thing Jongdae has said to him yet.

*

Yixing learns that Minseok, at 26, still doesn't have anyone on his wrist, an anomaly, _like me_ , Yixing thinks except.

Except he stumbles across something he’s not something he's meant to hear, really, Yixing was just going to get water, 1 am, five hours before their flight back to Korea, and he notices that the TV in their hotel room is still open but on mute, and peeking in he sees that Lu Han and Minseok are on the couch, talking. Minseok’s calmly telling Lu Han that not having anything on his wrist doesn't mean anything, doesn't mean that it's not Lu Han, doesn't mean that he doesn't like Lu Han, Lu Han's tattoo doing a strange thing and changing to Minseok’s real name overnight, the first and only time his tattoo changes.

“Feelings aren’t permanent. Nobody is happy all the time, or sad all the time, or angry all the time. That also means that—since love is a feeling—it will go the way feelings do, fade, disappear, flicker, get stronger, get weaker,” Minseok says, looking at Lu Han in the eye.

“If you don’t want me...” Lu Han swallows and Yixing waits but he knows that Lu Han won’t have the heart to finish, to say _then tell me_ or plead _what can I do_? Yixing tries to send a telepathic message to Lu Han, _stay strong!_ , even as his own heart twists.

“I do want you,” Minseok says, firmly.

“I’m just not your soulmate then?” Lu Han asks. “I don’t get how that works.”

“Just because your name isn’t here yet, doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

And Lu Han stills, then, because Minseok said _love_ and Yixing knows it’s the first time Minsoek has ever said that. Yixing’s heart feels weird, filling with happiness for Lu Han and sinking with sadness for himself. It’s not like Minseok was his to love, from the start, anyway, but still.

“It just means I haven’t made my choice final yet,” Minseok says, reaching for Lu Han’s hand.

Lu Han’s brow furrows, confused.

“Lu Han, people choose who they love. Then the tattoo appears. Not the other way around.”

It’s only a few seconds, but Yixing thinks the silence is deafening. _You choose who you love._

“That’s not true,” Lu Han protests. Yixing stays by the door, knowing he should have left ages ago, but needing, needing this. Jongdae said the same thing.

“Why did your tattoo change when you learned my real name?” Minseok asks.

Lu Han reddens, then counters, “Then why did your fake name appear here in the first place?”

Minseok’s quiet for a little while, then says, “It’s part of the reason I haven’t chosen yet. See, you got your tattoo at a young age, at thirteen, you were no doubt impressionable.And right now, I don’t have a clue if you like me because of me, or because your tattoo told you to.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Lu Han whispers. Yixing knows Lu Han loves Minseok, but he also sees where Minseok’s coming from, rational, and more than afraid, and maybe ignoring the obvious, that if Lu Han hasn’t chosen him all this time, he’d never have put up with the Skype conversations and a long distance relationship that Lu Han felt wasn’t even valid, because Minseok had never said anything to make Lu Han believe otherwise. Looking at them, Yixing realizes that he may be a mess, but he isn’t the only one. Everyone’s a little messed up in their own way. Minseok is good-looking, stable, athletic, and caring, yet still insecure.

“I’m just being… careful. If what you have is a crush that got out of hand, I don’t want to put everything on the line, if you believe that a name of a person you haven’t even met automatically means it’s that person you’re meant to be with, without even knowing who that person really is.” Minseok shrugs. “How else will I know if all this is real?”

Lu Han laughs, quietly. “It’s true, I believe this tattoo. But I also believe it’s you. And I know who you are. I’ve known you for years and even during those times you wouldn’t tell me what was on your wrist, all the times I thought our wrists don’t match and you just couldn’t tell me, all I could think is, _I’m so lucky your name appeared for me_. For me, it’s you. It’s you not just because you’re here, but because I really do love you. It’s just going to be you. And if you want me to choose—that’s still going to be my choice.”

Yixing backs away from the doorway, remembering _privacy_ , goes back to his room, water forgotten. He hopes things turn out well for Lu Han as he thinks of Jongdae’s advice, of fighting for the love he wants to keep, and selfishly, he wants to keep both—Lu Han, his best friend, and Minseok, a solid pillar of support, a friendly shadow who’s always been there since he was thirteen. And the way to keep both, he knows, is to keep the status quo. With Minseok, Yixing learns that falling in love doesn’t always mean acting on it. That the strength of love doesn’t always have to be an action.

Sometimes, inaction speaks of a greater capability to love. Letting someone go, or choosing not to pursue someone even if what you know what you feel is real, so that other person can be happy, so that person can become the person they’re meant to be.

Maybe Yixing is finally understanding Sehun a little, why he let go when he did, begins to forgive. And he realizes that while he thinks nobody has ever fought for him, to keep his love, keep him, he himself hasn’t fought for anybody either. Nobody stayed on his wrist long enough for him to try. He wonders if Minseok is right. If you do choose the people you love. That your fate, your destiny, your soulmate, is something you decide.

Minseok brings Lu Han and Yixing to the airport, Minseok and Lu Han holding hands at the back of the cab. Minseok’s wrist is still blank, but Lu Han seems content.

*

(The week before Christmas that year, Minseok flies to China, Lu Han’s name on his wrist.

Lu Han is over the moon. On Christmas eve, they gather at Lu Han’s, eating popcorn, watching Love, Actually (dubbed in Chinese, subtitles in Korean), one of Lu Han’s favorite movies (something he will never admit), Yixing on the floor, Lu Han curled next to Minseok on the couch. Minseok’s not big on public displays of affection and sometimes it seems like Lu Han is the only one who cares, or that Lu Han cares just a little too much, but Minseok never pushes Lu Han away, finally has Lu Han on his wrist, and Yixing remembers _people show love in their own different ways_ and really, what matters is that Lu Han is happy, Minseok is happy, and because they are happy, Yixing is happy.)

Before Christmas but after Jongdae’s visit to China, Yixing begins and keeps corresponding with Wu-Yifan-now-Kevin-Li over Weibo. Kevin’s a producer in Canada, and he’s still kind, caring and—honestly, he and Yixing have nothing in common.

But when Kevin asks to meet up with him in Beijing, on location for a shoot, Yixing says yes. They have a good time, catching up and eating Chinese food, talking about dragons, moats, oranges in Changsha, and their life the past twenty years. Rewind, rewind, rewind.

Kevin-formerly-Yifan enters his life like every other person with one difference: Yixing doesn’t have him on his wrist—Yifan does. Yixing is stunned when he sees, Yifan a little embarrassed, his large hands fumbling as he explains that he got his tattoo pretty young, but that he knew it was always going to be Yixing on his wrist. Always.

Yixing is speechless and Yifan tells him calmly that he can wait for Yixing’s answer, for Yixing to think it over, because it wasn’t fair to spring this up on him out of the blue, especially when they’ve been messaging the last few months. There’s a chaste kiss and he leaves his number with Yixing.

That night Yixing thinks of fate, of destiny, of finally, finally coming full circle, Yifan on his wrist at six years old, Yixing on Yifan’s wrist at tweny-six. Yixing thinks of all the people he’s met and all the heartache, pain, tears, sadness, and a glimmer of light that _this can all be over now_. He doesn’t have anything in common with Yifan, doesn’t think he’s ever had any, aside from a sandbox, but Yifan is here, Yifan is waiting, Yifan wants him, to fight for him, Yifan has chosen him. Here is someone who loves him and all he has left to do is say yes. And it’s easy, really, to fall for someone like Yifan. He’s tall and handsome, caring, protective without being overbearing, with a quirky sense of humor to boot.

Yifan is perfect on paper.

So Yixing tries.

They date for a month. Yifan’s name doesn’t appear on his wrist, and Yixing knows it’s not because he doesn’t like Yifan, it’s because he doesn’t love Yian, can’t bring himself to choose him. Yixing thinks of everyone he'd chased around the globe, falling in love with ideals and projecting them on people, people who have different personalities that Yixing doesn't know because he's never really gotten to know them. He’s lived his life having things happen to him, believing in fate and destiny were predetermined things in life.

He knows better now. He knows not to push something that isn’t there or accept someone just because he’s lonely, because it isn’t fair. He knows not to pursue something _just because_ it’s there. He knows that fate or destiny, these abstract concepts, don’t decide his future, his soulmate. He has the power to choose and he wants to take it, take control of the path his life leads, his happiness. _You either have the feeling or you don’t_ , echoes from the dusty corner of his brain, buried under years of failed attempts at love, but feelings, feelings change, _feelings aren’t permanent, but if you decide to love someone—than that, that’s true love._

Yixing finally understands, _dont show anyone until you're sure_ , and he wonders why it took him ten names and almost twenty years to do so. He wonders why his mother didn’t tell him outright, wonders if he would have listened at that time, wonders if it's one of those things you have to live through, to experience, to learn. Wonders if his mother’s tattoo had been as volatile as his, once upon a time.

He talks to Yifan, tells Yifan that he’s in the process of finding himself, fixing himself. That he wants to love someone that isn’t just thrown in his way by fate, that isn’t just a name on his wrist. That when he falls in love, this time, it’s not just blindly falling for the nearest person he could, would be compatible with, but for someone he can know deeply, and who will do the same for him in return. And while Yifan has Yixing on his wrist, Yixing finds himself telling Yifan the same thing Minseok told Lu Han, that Yifan doesn’t really know him.

And Yifan, instead of fighting for him like Lu Han did with Minseok, sees the logic and proposes to get to know each other better. So they keep messaging, going on dates from time to time, until Yifan has to go back to Canada. Yifan smiles at Yixing, bittersweet, and tells Yixing that Yifan’s parents never had each other’s names on their wrists, and that took it’s toll (they had never learned to truly love each other), so they had a divorce and he and his mom moved to Canada. Yifan is a gentleman about it, says, _you can’t force things like this_ , and that he doesn’t want to end up like his parents. Yixing understands.

Yifan’s name never appears on his wrist.

Yixing's learning curve has been steep, but he thinks it's the same thing as expressing emotions—if people express the same feelings in different ways, people also learn at their own pace. Yixing's journey has been long but he believes, he knows, he (his heart) is all the better, better, better for it.

*

 _And so, this is everything._ Yixing writes.

_Everyone I think I’ve loved, everyone I probably did love, and everything I’ve learned in between. I’m sending this to you, so you’ll know. Me. This is everything._

He closes the e-mail with his signature and a tentative repeat of his request to meet up for coffee.

He clicks send and closes the browser window.

*

Yixing no longer wears bracelets on his wrist.

*

Sehun is sitting outside his apartment, on his stoop and Yixing’s heart twists, he looks the same like he does two years ago, except he doesn’t, he’s gotten even taller still and more mature-looking, but his smile is the same, shy and tentative, one hand coming up to fix his hair self-consciously (brown, like when he and Yixing first met) before he greets Yixing. Yixing is trying to say he looks the same in all the ways that matter, but his thoughts run too fast for him to articulate them.

“I got your e-mail,” Sehun says, by way of greeting.

“Yeah,” Yixing says, for lack of anything better. Sehun is _here_.

Sehun shifts from one foot to the other. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for reading it.” It feels all so perfunctory and polite, like he hadn’t had Sehun in his bed for a good three years.

“So, what now?” Sehun asks, hands in his pockets.

“I don’t know,” Yixing says. All he knows is, this time, Sehun is someone he is choosing, willingly, with eyes wide open, someone he knows, someone he still wants, not an ideal, not a fantasy, and not something that just happened to him or was thrown to him by fate and he followed like a puppy.

Yixing opens his mouth. “But I want to see where this goes. Hang out with you again.”

“Clean slate?” Sehun asks. He doesn’t look like he much likes the idea.

“No,” Yixing says. He doesn’t like the idea of restarting either, like nothing, nothing had ever happened to them. Too many things had happened to them for it to be buried, erased. Too many wonderful, heartbreaking, amazing, things, things Yixing would never bury or forget, no matter how painful, because there was always, always more happiness than pain, even if pain was all he felt for a while. "New chapter. Smarter me. Hopefully a smarter you as well."

Sehun grins, and Yixing feels his heart squeeze at the sight.

“Hyungs always treat, right?” Yixing says.

“Of course,” Sehun says. The metal of his watch brushes against Yixing’s coat as they walk together.

Yixing doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring, if being friends with Sehun will even work, if it might progress to something more or will end in fire, but right now, walking down the street with Sehun, he’s happy with his choice.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. ' _You either have the feeling or you don’t.’_ is a quote from Daniel Handler’s _Why We Broke Up._  
>  2. _'We accept the love we think we deserve.’_ is from Stephen Chbosky’s _Perks of Being a Wallflower_ and was not said at any point by Obi-Wan Kenobi.  
> 3\. Title is taken from Boston's _More Than A Feeling,_ which I love the[ *NSYNC A Capella version of](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMcmsI3_gRY).  
> 4\. [Image credits](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/justgetlayd_mod/66471824/10441/10441_300.png)
> 
> I'm currently yelling about MDZS/The Untamed/Xiao Zhan on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/jecca_o9). ♥


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